Thursday, July 11, 2013

Adulthood: The Full Life Crisis

Sitting in PF Changs Sunday afternoon, I was talking to my friend Tim over an oblong plate of crab rangoon. We were discussing cars, specifically the difference between leasing and buying, and he was explaining the benefits and drawbacks of both. The whole conversation was prompted by my CEL coming on, for the third time in as many months, and after already spending a cool two thousand dollars on repairs in the past year alone I was weighing my options. With Tim being my designated “car-guy” friend, I turned to him for advice. Since meeting him just over a year ago, I’ve seen him buy and trade 4 different vehicles. It’s his hobby (his words, not mine.) Just knowing that I would have someone to go with me in the event that I needed to purchase a new car who not only knew what they were talking about, but who genuinely enjoyed the whole process made me feel better. That’s not to say that I wasn’t still totally freaking out. 

"I feel like the contents of my life are all jammed inside of a coke bottle,"  I said, making a shaking motion, and gesturing with my left hand. "All of my options and possible life directions are being violently mixed up and slammed together. I’ve got work, my car, my writing and relationships all pulling me in different directions. There are so many variables to consider. If the issue with my car is something major, do I get a new one, or finally make the move to a city where I can walk and bike everywhere? If it’s a cheap fix, how long do I stay in FL, and how the hell am I going to pay for all of this if things keep going wrong? How am I going to pay for a new car? I know the cap has to be unscrewed eventually, and I’m just waiting to see what direction it will all spew in." And with that, I finished off the demonstration by using both hands to make an over-dramatic spewing motion.

Tim just stared at me.

"I just did an over zealous jack-off motion in the middle of a crowded restaurant, didn’t I?" I asked, replaying the last ten seconds in my mind from the perspective of an onlooker.    

"Yeah pretty much," he replied. 

In a way, the whole thing is a perfect metaphor for my life. Here I am, trying desperately to get my point across, to get my shit together, to navigate this whole adulthood thing, and instead I end up jacking off the air in public. 

I have no idea what I’m doing. 

Does anybody know what they're doing? Do people my age actually have their shit together? Jesus, do people with children know what they're doing!? 

Photo Credit: Red Bubble

Speaking of children, last week I tried to explain what a quadriplegic is to a group of 8-year-olds. At the time I honestly thought it’d help illustrate that the quadriceps are made up of four different muscles. I’ve used the same analogy with “tricycle” or “triangle” to describe the "tripod" technique applied to doing a headstand, but the only quad association I could think of was a quadriplegic. Only in hindsight do I see that this was perhaps, not the best comparison... Thankfully I was cut off before I could make a complete ass of myself. Using total paralysis to describe a physiology concept to a group of young gymnasts. Brilliant.  

Gold star, Adie. Gold star. 

I'm bumbling around like an idiot. I don't have a clue. I mean not even a little bit. They say that admitting you have a problem is the first step, but what about the second step? Nobody ever talks about the second step! I’m beginning to suspect that this whole quarter life crisis gig will leak right into a midlife crisis, and by the time they both resolve themselves I’ll be dead. My whole entire life will be spent in crises.  

A full life crisis. 

But then as I was folding laundry last night I surprised myself by thinking, "Perhaps it's time to invest in some new towels."   

Now how adult is that.